At once a pair of giant Turtles leaped out of the ship, waddling rapidly toward them.
"Open the hatch," Litlun begged. "We must go out at once—hands raised—to show them we mean no harm to the Mother!"
"Not yet!" Krake snapped. "Radiation suits first—we'd be fried in a minute out there!"
"Then do it quickly and follow me!" the Turtle squawked. Needing no suit for himself, he was already scrabbling at the scout ship's hatch. The rest of them were struggling in the confined space to pull out the capes and hoods that would— that Krake hoped would—protect them, at least for a while, from the lethal radiation that drenched the Mother planet from the inferno in its sky.
By the time Krake got outside Litlun and the Turtles from the guard ship were already screeching raucously at each other. It didn't sound like a friendly discussion. In Krake's opinion, the two new Turtles weren't acting much like a welcoming committee. But at least no weapons had been drawn.
Krake was careful to stand a good, non-threatening distance away from the shouting match. Moon Bunderan was between him and Thrayl, their backs to the blast of dank, bone-chilling air from the ice cliff. The Taur's great, glowing horns swung watchfully from side to side, but there was no serious alarm on the broad face. Out of the corner of his eye Krake saw half a dozen more Turtles racing toward them from a new source—not from a ship, this time; the new ones were coming from a gray stone construction that seemed to penetrate right into the face of the glacier itself.
Krake stole a moment to look around. Overhead the sky of the Mother planet was a dusty pink, curiously brilliant. The black hole was out of sight, but near the horizon the neutron star blazed wickedly. It gave little heat. Krake felt the girl
trembling beside him, and it was only when he looked at her that he realized he was shivering with cold himself. Their cloaks might protect them from the wicked radiation, but they were doing nothing to keep them warm. Thunder from overhead told him that another of the escort ships had finally managed to catch up with them. It landed as precipitously as the first, and two more of the mean-looking, ancient ships were following it down.
The odds were getting worse.
Krake grinned to himself at the thought. Of course that made no difference: the four of them against an entire planet, what difference did a few more Turtles make? He watched with resignation as more Turdes leaped from the ships and waddled toward them at high speed.
"Francis?" the girl whispered. "Isn't Lidun waving to us?"
He turned back and saw it was true. The rust-red litdc Turtle was gesturing frantically for them to join him. As they approached he engaged his transposer. "One has been granted permission!" he croaked in triumph. "We are permitted to see the Mother herself!"
"She'll help you, then?" Moon asked.
The Turde's gestures slowed. "One does not know that with certainty," he said, the words coming with reluctance. "But we must not delay! These Brothers will take us to her at once!"
To be taken to the Mother meant first penetrating through that wall of ice, Moon Bunderan discovered as they followed the first pair of Turtles toward that old stone structure at its base. Two other Turtles swung in behind them—a guard of honor? Or a prison guard?
Moon didn't know the answer to that. There was so much she didn't know! For Moon Bunderan, all these experiences had been coming too fast and too unexpectedly. She took reassurance from the presence of her dearest friend, the Taur, not to mention that other rather dear person, Captain Francis Krake; whatever happened, at least they were all together.
All the same, she was glad to get into the tunnel through the ice. It was good to be out of the sight of that awful neutron star in the sky, though it was no warmer inside. She saw that the tunnel stretched a long way into the glacier, but there was little time for sight-seeing. The Turtles were herding them onto a thing like a farm cart. It had no motor that Moon could see. Nevertheless, as soon as they were all aboard it began to roll steadily into the tunnel, under the ice, in a gloom that was not quite total darkness.
There was light enough for Moon, though, and it came from the familiar, friendly glow of Thrayl's horns. In that illumination she could see Francis Krake's face, pinched in worry as he stared ahead into the gloom. Poor Francis, she thought, though she could not have said why.
She burrowed closer to Thrayl's warm, firm body. At least, she told herself, there was something to be accomplished here. Litlun's dreams might be realized in this place, and obviously he was on tenterhooks about it. The Turtle was fidgeting nervously, muttering to himself, transposer off. She wondered what it might mean if the Turtle's hopes were realized. Suppose Litlun did persuade this ancient Mother to come with them. Suppose it meant that the Turtles had a new rebirth of life in their own time. Suppose they returned successfully . . . but what, she wondered, would they return to? Could she ever go back to her life on the New Mexican ranch again?
To her surprise, Thrayl bent his great head to nesde against hers. "Do not fear, Moon," he lowed gently, his warm, sweet breath stirring her hair. "Your wish. It is my wish, too."
She sighed, not asking for an explanation, committed to trust. She could not believe it was a guarantee of any kind— but if Thrayl told her not to be afraid, why, then she would not.
As the car came to a jolting stop Moon gasped and squinted as bright light struck her eyes. They had emerged from the tunnel into a brilliant vista.
They were in a vast, circular pit, like the caldera of an ancient volcano. All around them steep granite cliffs rose high above, shutting out the direct rays of that awful neutron star. There was no sign of the ice that she knew was all around them, held back by the towering granite.
The whole scene was as brightly lit as a summer day on the ranch, though there was no sun in the sky. When Moon squinted up she saw that the light came from shifting curtains of multicolored fire in the sky itself.
"An aurora," Francis Krake muttered, staring up at the pink sky. Energetic particles from those dead stars were making the heavens blaze. "A hell of a bright one, too! But I don't think we'll need the radiation suits anymore."
Not even to keep the cold out, Moon thought, because, astonishingly, in this sheltered place it was warm. As she looked at the sight before them she felt a sudden, unexpected stirring of pleasure. It was quite beautiful! In the center of the deep, round valley they were in there was a wide and handsome lake, dotted with islands.
It was no passive landscape, either. The scene was filled with activity. She saw that the meadows were alive with Turtles—all kinds of Turtles, tiny ones, medium-sized ones, even some very large ones with silvery carapaces, which seemed to be in charge of the others.
Krake was staring with marveling eyes as well. He said, "This must be their hatchery, Moon! I've heard of this place, but I never expected to see it for myself. What we're looking at is the next generation of Turtles, and the Mother herself must be somewhere near!"
The Turtles who had brought them this far got out of the cart and stood there, backs to their guests—or prisoners. They seemed to be waiting for something. Litlun was trying to question them, but they ignored his nervous cawing. They were looking across the meadow, where another Turde was unhurriedly waddling toward them.
The newcomer was one of the huge, silvery-bodied ones, and Krake caught his breath at the sight. "Do you know what that is, Moon?" he demanded. "I think it's afemaL?! It must be one of the nymphs!"
Moon stared at the new arrival. It was taller than most of the Turtles she had seen, but slimmer as well. The rudimentary winglets of male Turtles were well developed in this one, and its carapace gleamed like polished metal. Moon looked at Francis Krake in puzzlement. "A nymph?"